Poetry Problems and Other Mischief
by The Fiercesomest Dragon Ever
Summary: A collection of oneshots involving Zelda and her mysterious noncounterpart, Sheik. Beware of randomness and general plotlessness within.
1. Poetry Problems

Heya everyone!

After weeks... no, months... of trying to come up with a storyline for Kokiri Dragon's challenge to write a fic featuring Zelda and Sheik as different people, I have _FINALLY_ come up with something, and actually FINISHED it!

So, anyways, here it is. Enjoy!

... and please don't ridicule me too much for my awful poetry...

* * *

- 

"_A Sheikah, unbound by destiny._

_Or am I?_

_Can one working closely with the ties of fate truly be his own?_

_Or am I merely a shadow, controlled by the will of the Goddesses?_

_To appear and disappear at their illustrious whims?_

_My tortured mind is assailed by questions_

_Coming upon me in the dark, they spring._

_Who am I?_

_Was I the one who helped the Hero and Princess of Destiny?_

_Why can I not understand?_

_My harp sings softly to the ears of others…_

_What messages does it whisper to me?"_

-

"Ugh!" Sheik cried out in frustration, crumpling the paper and hurling it away, "Why do all my poems turn out like this!"

Zelda, tending the flowers in the garden nearby, laughed softly, "Sheik, stop trying so hard. You're wasting paper."

"I'm not trying hard," the disgruntled Sheikah growled, contemplating the wisdom of snapping his last quill in half. "It just comes out that way."

"Here, let me see." The princess fetched the balled up paper from behind a rosebush. Unfolding it, she read it over slowly. Then, clearing her throat softly, she raised an eyebrow at Sheik, "Sheik… why are you writing poetry that questions your own existence…?"

"I… er…" Sheik gave her a pointed look, "Well, let's see _you_ try writing something that makes sense about me. It's impossible!" He thrust the quill and paper at her.

"All right. I will." Zelda put pen to paper.

-

_"Sheik, bearer of wisdom..."_

-

"Wait… no. Technically, I'm the bearer of wisdom…" Zelda frowned, glancing at the Triforce mark on the back of her hand. "Um…" She tried again.

-

"_The mysterious traveling Sheikah,_

_Softly playing the lost melodies of Hyrule_

_Clearing the way for the Hero to travel_

_And--------------"_

-

"… Sheik? How did you know the lost melodies of Hyrule if you were a traveler?"

The Sheikah shrugged, "I don't know. Why is it impossible to write anything that makes sense about me?"

"It's not impossible, Sheik." Zelda insisted.

"Then write something."

Zelda bit her lip, trying once more.

-

"_The lone Sheikah, last of his…"_

-

"Oh, but there's Impa…" Zelda glanced toward the figure of her guardian in the shadows of a tree not far away as she scribbled out the line she had written.

She paused, pen upraised.

There _had_ to be something she could write about Sheik that would make sense.

-

"_Sheik… is… a… Sheikah."_

-

"There." Zelda handed the quill and paper back to Sheik.

The unimpressed Sheikah raised his eyebrows, "… is that the best you can do…?"

The princess crossed her arms, reddening slightly, "It doesn't matter; I wrote something that made sense about you."

"… can you write anything more… elaborate?" he asked, "_And_ is true?

"… elaborate and true?" She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, "Fine. Give me that pen." Zelda snatched the paper back, adding to her sentence.

-

"_Sheik is a _stupid_ Sheikah."_

-

"Hey!" Sheik cried out, glaring at the smirking princess.

"You _asked_ for 'more elaborate' and 'true'." She sniffed, turning back to the flowers.

"If that's the way you want it…" Sheik growled, scratching out a few lines on the paper. "Here's a poem that's _perfectly_ true."

-

"_Zelda is a stuck-up princess…"_

-

"Sheik…" Zelda said threateningly.

He ignored her and continued reading.

-

"… _who's too busy messing with fate to do anything worthwhile…"_

-

"You do realize that I'm armed with an array of garden tools… don't you?" There was a dangerous glint in the Zelda's eyes as she picked up a hand trowel.

Sheik knew it would be wiser to stop now, but he couldn't resist a final jab at the princess's ego.

-

"… _and can't write poetry."_

-

A shovel-full of dirt struck him in the face, sending him stumbling backwards, spitting out bits of grass and mulch.

He wiped a hand across his mouth and grinned, "Have you got a problem with the truth, Zelda?" Laughing, he dodged another shovel-full of dirt. Before Zelda could reload, Sheik dipped his pen into the ink well. "Ah-ah-ah." He touched the tip of the pen, pulling it back like a catapult.

Zelda backed away, "Don't… you… dare."

"Hm, so the pen really is mightier than the sword!" Sheik mused, advancing slowly.

"Sheik!" Zelda cried, retreating further. Unfortunately, she soon found herself trapped the corner of the hedge surrounding the garden. She turned to face her assailant, "This is my favorite dress! If you get ink on it, I swear I'll kill you."

"Why are you wearing your favorite dress to weed the garden?" Sheik asked incredulously.

"Because…" Zelda faltered, "Well, dirt will wash out! I'm serious, Sheik! If you flick that at me…"

Sheik chuckled, lowering his weapon. "Don't worry, Zelda. I wouldn't _really_ do that. Besides, I tried it the other day and it doesn't even work. See?" He pointed it to his left, flicking the tip with his right forefinger. A few drops of ink were launched off into the air. "Er… it didn't work yesterday…"

Zelda's brow knitted in disapproval at Sheik. Then, upon glancing to Sheik's left, her expression changed dramatically. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly.

"… what's wrong with you, Zelda?" Sheik raised an eyebrow.

But she wasn't looking at him anymore.

Sheik followed her gaze, turning to his left.

There, not two yards from him, stood a very stern, slightly ink-spattered Impa.

Sheik dropped the quill in surprise, "… oops."

Impa narrowed her eyes.

Turning three shades paler, Sheik staggered hurriedly backwards, "I'll-see-you-later-Zelda-bye!" and dove over the hedge and out of sight.

Zelda swallowed hard, wishing she could do the same. She turned to Impa, knowing that she would know that she was partly responsible for this. If that made sense.

Instead of the expected reprimand, though, Impa handed Zelda a slip of paper, "Give this to Sheik when you see him next." And with that, she turned and receded into the shadows of the garden.

Zelda breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was close.

She turned the paper over in her hands. "Hm…" Looking first left, then right, she unfolded it.

-

"_Zelda and Sheik_

_Man and dame_

_So alike,_

_They're nearly the same._

_In thought, in word,_

_In mind and deed._

_Good advice, both_

_Must learn to heed._

_And here's the advice, _

_Its truth you may see:_

_Trouble always ensues_

_When you write poetry."_

**The End**

* * *

There you go! Bad poetry or not, my second challenge-story is now officially... COMPLETE! 

Now... don't you go and forget to review... -pulls back inked quill with forefinger-

Haha. Don't worry. It doesn't even work! -flicks quill-

"Agh!"

Oops... sorry Mom!

"And this was my brand new sweater!"

Er... ah... gotta run!


	2. Scissors and Buckets

_Author's note: Wow, 'tis been forever since I've posted anything, eh? Sigh... lately my creative juices haven't been turning out anything worthwhile._

_Anyways, this is another basically pointless oneshot thing involving Zelda and Sheik. (I wrote one, and it was just too much fun. So I had to write another!) I'll probably end up writing a few more. If I do, I'll add them as chapters to this fic, (Now, Poetry Problems and Other Mischief)_

_It's not my best, but I had to post _something_ before I went stir-crazy!_

* * *

"Kill me now. Please. Spare me this torture; just kill me now."

"Don't be such a wimp, Sheik." Zelda swept a towel around the sullen boy's shoulders. She removed a small brooch from the front of her dress and pinned the cloth snugly in the back. "You _need_ a haircut."

"I don't see why I can't do it myself. It suited me _fine_ these past years," Sheik's knuckles tightened as he gripped the time-worn edge of the oaken chair, "and it's rude to interrupt a man when he's praying."

"Stop being ridiculous," The princess deftly unwound the cloth concealing Sheik's face and head, giving his hair a disapproving look. She brushed her hand none-too-gently over his jaggedly cut locks, sending traces of grass and leaves flittering to the ground, "You're more of a butcher than a barber. Would it really hurt to get a decent haircut every now and again?"

"If you're the stylist, it might." Sheik grumbled under his breath, trying to gauge the odds of getting to the door before Zelda recaptured him.

"What was that?"

"I said, you're absolutely right." He tipped his head back to face the princess, baring his teeth in a forced smile. No luck on the escape route; Impa was lurking nearby, an amused smile hovering about her lips. Sheik tried mouthing the word 'Help' to the sage when Zelda was busy sharpening the scissors, but she only allowed the smile to widen a bit, and disappeared down the hall. The male Sheikah scowled in the direction his elder had gone and tried to think of another way out of this.

"Zelda, I just remembered." Sheik started forward in his seat, reaching back with one hand to unpin the towel, "I have somewhere I need to go. Now. In fact, I'm already late."

"Sheik, that's the most pathetic excuse since Link ran off claiming he needed to polish his empty bottle collection."

"And you believed _him_," He raised an eyebrow accusingly, "why not _me_?"

"Because _you_ I can successfully overpower. This is going to be cold." Zelda smirked as she dumped a bowl of water over Sheik's head.

He sputtered, grumbling as rivulets trailed from the hair plastering his face, "I knew I should've kept Impa from teaching you to grapple… ow, that hurts!"

Zelda put her hand on the back of the boy's head as she attempted to run a comb through his tangled hair, "Just because you were too busy playing your harp to practice… and it's your own fault for not brushing it every now and again."

"Why brush my hair when I could be playing my harp? Ouch!"

"That's why." The princess plucked the loose hair from the comb.

"You did that on _purpose_…" Sheik glowered as best he could with a lavender-colored towel around his shoulders.

"You _asked_ for it." Zelda started on another patch.

"That's it. I'm leaving." The chair scraped on the floor. "Ouch!"

"Hold still. I'm not finished." She plucked a few more hairs from the comb's vicious teeth, then dropped it on her desk, picking up a pair of scissors instead.

Sheik reached up to rub his head, only to have Zelda swat his hand away, "So?"

"Just hold still. I'll be done in a second. Really, you'll look like an unkempt hermit if your hair gets any longer."

"I _am_ a hermit!"

"You are not a hermit."

"Well, I'll consider becoming one if it will keep your scissors away from my head." He had somehow managed to straddle the chair and was holding his hands up in defense, "I mean, what if you _slip_? You could put my eye out. I don't want to die by the hands of an inexperienced hair stylist!"

"Sheik, I am _not_ going to kill you." Zelda rolled her eyes.

"… are you so sure?"

Zelda pinched the bridge of her nose in an exasperated manner, "Yes. I'm sure."

"Whew, that's good." Sheik exhaled and grinned up at the princess.

"… why is that good?"

"Well… er… when I straddled this chair, I kind of broke your brooch thingy…" He produced the pin; bent, with part of the clasp missing. Zelda stared for a moment before gritting her teeth.

"Sheik, I am _so_ going to kill you." She raised her scissors menacingly.

"Yike!" Sheik leapt from the chair, making a dash for the door.

"Get back here!"

At this ill-fated moment, a young, brunette servant girl appeared in the doorway of Zelda's room lugging a bucket in one hand, "Here's the rest of the water you asked for, prin—"

Sheik hurtled into the girl, toppling himself and the girl to the ground, splashing the bucket of water everywhere. He scrambled to disentangle himself, placing the stunned girl between himself and the enraged princess, "Save me! Zelda's cracked!"

"Wh-what?" The girl's eyes widened as Zelda, brandishing her scissors and growling, dove at Sheik.

"At least I'm not about to get a few _permanent_ split ends," She caught his wrist, despite his efforts, and pulled. "Aha!"

"Help! Don't let her kill me!" Sheik twisted and struggled as he was dragged back into the room.

"Quick, get me that bowl from the desktop," Zelda snapped, wrestling the violently thrashing Sheik to the flagstones. The bewildered servant girl looked at Sheik. Then at Zelda.

The Sheikah pleaded desperately, "Don't do it! You wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of a semi-innocent soon-to-be hermit, would you?"

"Hurry! He's hard to hold down." Zelda gritted her teeth and tried to get a better grip on the boy's shoulder.

Unsure of what to do, the young servant's cheeks flushed as she backed out of the room slowly.

"Um… actually, I think I… I have to go… do… something. In the kitchen. Right now."

And with that, she beat a hasty retreat down the hall.

The pair on the floor ceased their struggle for a moment as they stared after her.

Sheik's brow furrowed, "Why didn't that excuse work when I used it?"

"Because you weren't a distraction." A wooden bowl slammed, upside-down, over his head. Zelda then proceeded to hold the boy in place as she trimmed all the hair visible from beneath the bowl, ignoring his many, colorful protests.

"There." Zelda released him, "Was that so bad?" The shorn Sheikah leapt to his feet, scurrying to the mirror on Zelda's wall.

"A bowl cut." Sheik scowled in disgust at his reflection. "_You_. Gave _me_. A _bowl_ cut. I can't believe you!"

"How was I supposed to give you any other kind of cut when you were yowling like an alley cat?" Zelda joined him at the mirror. "It looks fine."

"_Riiight_." Sheik grumbled caustically, glaring at himself. Zelda watched for a few moments. When he didn't show any signs of moving, she left, muttering something about egotistical ninjas.

A smirk slowly formed on Sheik's face as Zelda's footsteps diminished. He turned back to his reflection, dusting the snips of hair from his head. Impa had mysteriously appeared in the room behind him.

"You could have just _asked_ her to give you a bowl cut." She quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

Sheik turned, grinning roguishly at the venerable sage, "That would've been too easy." He retrieved the cloth wrappings from the floor and began to re-tie them over his face, "Besides, do you really think she would've settled for a bowl cut if I was _willing_ to let her mess with my hair? Probably would've put it in a French braid, or something."

"Mm-hm." Impa's stern expression remained unchanged as she took in the wet floor, overturned chair, and various signs of struggle in the room, "You certainly have a unique way of getting what you want."

"That's me." Sheik tucked the end of the cloth into his shirt.

"I prefer a somewhat more… straightforward approach." The gray-haired Sheikah produced a mop and bucket from seemingly thin air.

"Um… actually…" Sheik looked from the mop, to the floor, to Impa. "I have somewhere I need to be. Like, right now." Impa raised an eyebrow, looking half-disapproving, half amused.

"Nice try." The bucket and mop were shoved into Sheik's hands, "Report to the kitchen when you finish. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other things to attend to." The door creaked and wet footsteps echoed down the hall as Impa left.

Sheik growled, jabbing the mop at the water on the floor, "Why doesn't that excuse ever work when _I_ use it?"

* * *

_Was it good? Bad? Severly lacking creativity? To tell you the truth, I thought it was missing something... constructive criticism is welcomed and given free hot-chocolate._


End file.
